Confessions
by Rine Wolve
Summary: Dating a vulcan... Boring, too serious? Who's to say? Oh, yes! Nyota Uhura could. Here's her point of view on the progress of her relationship with the pointy-eared boyfriend from outer space, the perks of mind-melding and her account of their... first time :)) Rated M for suggestive scenes in later chapters. Enjoy! Disclaimer: they do not belong to me... but I'm in love with them!
1. Coke and chocolate

This used to be a story called Coke and Chocolate. I've decided to turn it into the first chapter of the Confessions series. It just works better like this.

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><p>I am seated at my study, frantically typing in my diary... in the middle of the night. I would have talked aloud, I feel like speaking to someone, but Gaila is sleeping and I don't want to disturb her. Besides, I wouldn't talk to Gaila about this, anyway, when I know what she'd say: that I should talk to him instead.<br>I have been eating chocolate and drinking Cola all night. I couldn't sleep... well, of course I couldn't, after all that stimulant, one might think. But I've had this damn insomnia for a couple of weeks now. I can't sleep, because I am constantly thinking... about him. I should focus on my exams, instead. And I did study for the most part of the night, when I wasn't doodling on my Padd, dreaming wide awake.

This began about a year ago. A slight impression at first. But now it's almost ridiculous. I have no idea what is wrong with me. Well, in fact I do, but this is not possible! I have always been rational, or so I liked to present myself to others. The truth is there is a fire inside me, that I was trying hard to keep under control. I had managed to turn it into ambition. A lot of males, regardless of race, could feel that fire and were instantly attracted to it; I shamefully admit that I used that to my advantage and even liked it that I could do that. The best part was that I could keep my nose up in the air, pretending to be master of my emotions, while the poor bastards struggled for my attention. All the while, I actually was miserable, because the fire was laying dormant inside and I felt cold and alone. Now I feel all hot... but still alone.

Uh! What is it about this man... well, alien, that makes me reconsider all my life and all the reproachable actions I have ever taken? Is it, maybe, because he is from a race that has genuinely mastered their emotions? I have always admired Vulcans for that. When I was little, I saw them as angels. They were the race that helped humans rebuild Earth's structures and leap forward into the stellar age. I didn't regard them as cold and severe, but pure and wise. They seemed sexless beings to me, or at least as having done away with the inconvenience of sexuality. All in all, I was thinking I would have liked a Vulcan male as a partner, because we would have been pure and rational together and able to attain higher forms of communication and unity. Boy, was I wrong!

I never thought that precisely a Vulcan will be the undoing of my self-imposed control. How can an angel be the object of my desire? And I'm talking about very explicit fantasies during the day and vivid dreams during the night and staring at his lips, while biting mine, during class or working hours, and the mere tone of his voice giving me goose bumps and butterflies. The fire that lay dormant is now awake and burning my heart away. I mean, does he even know I exist? Well, of course he knows I exist; I took three of his classes and we worked together in an office. I studied my ass off, just to get on his good side. But, to him, I'm just a cadet, while to me he should be my senior officer. I know he appreciates my work and has recommended me to Starfleet seniors on several occasions. And there was that time when he visited me in the hospital, but that must have been out of a feeling of universal care, or maybe guilt, because he was the one to refer me to the Detectives.

I sometimes think I see a spark of interest in his warm brown eyes, and that he smiles a little as he tilts his head towards me, when I talk to him... but that must be just wishful thinking. Nonetheless, I have never seen such eyes on a Vulcan before; he must get them from his human mother. But I adore every single one of his facial features: even the geeky bangs that I wish I would ruffle and part so that I could kiss his intellectual forehead. I think his elfish ears, object to so many human jokes, are the cutest ever. I love his perfect skin, be it greenish in shade, and I often imagine how smooth it would feel. Once or twice I touched his hand by mistake, when handing him a Padd, and it sent shivers down my spine; I swear he could feel it, too. For a moment, he threw me a strange, awkward glance.  
>And what's up with those lips? You gotta be kidding me! Are Vulcans even allowed to have sensual lips? Isn't that like against their religion, or something? I know I could make them <em>my<em> religion. OK, cool it, Nyota! You're losing it, girl! This has gotta stop!

I bet if I told him what's going on, he would be disgusted with my manifestation of emotion and he would scold me. And maybe that would wake me up. He is a Vulcan, and they frown upon passion and desire.

This thing could never work. It's too debilitating. Not to mention he is an instructor and a senior officer. Good thing my finals are almost over and Academy will soon be over and I'll apply to a star ship and fly into space and if I never see him again it will be too freakin' soon!

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><p>I don't really know how it happened, how I got there. I only remember raising my fist to press the interphone button on his door and stopping it in midair when I realized I had no business in the instructor's sector... especially at 4 A.M. I lowered my arm. I felt like trembling. In fact, I was shivering both with emotion and because of all the caffeine in my system.<p>

I never thought I would ever act this way. I must have looked so stupid. I was wondering what would he think if he saw me now, all vulnerable, at the peak of human silliness. I didn't want him to know I'm weak. I decided it was better if I worked through that myself, even if I had to go to therapy. After all, he never gave me any sign he might feel the same. There might have been other women who fancied him, but you didn't see them lurking around his corridor at that inhuman hour.

~I'm nothing but a stalker!~ I thought and I turned around and was just about to walk away, when the door opened and a very casual Spock widened his eyes on seeing me.

"Nyota..." he uttered, with a calm expression, though unsuccessfully concealing a hint of surprise.

~He called me by my first name~ I instantly thought. I saw it on his face he must have thought the same thing, and, in his mind, he was reprimanding himself for his slip.

"Is something the matter, Uhura?" he corrected himself, placing his hands behind his back, and raising his head in his usual, haughty manner, with a slight preoccupied frown.

"Oh, I'm so sorry to disturb you, Commander!" I fretted. "I was sure I didn't make any noise. I'm sorry I woke you up."

"You haven't disturbed me. I wasn't sleeping and I thought I heard voices. Are you alone?"

Unable to answer, I began twisting my fingers. ~Was I thinking out loud? Oh, dear God. I probably was. I'm so tired and pumped up with coke that I didn't realize it! It's bad enough I'm here at this hour, for no logical reason... but now I was even talking to myself?!~

On seeing me so disturbed, probably, Spock manifested genuine concern and placed one hand on my shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

I was startled, when feeling his hand, knowing how important and intimate hand gestures are to a Vulcan. I gazed up, at his brown, slightly slanted eyes. He seemed even taller than I remembered, but then it dawned on me I wasn't wearing any high heels, as I usually did during the day. His shoulders also seemed wider… or was it that I was small and puny compared to him? He really had the stature of an angel.

I was aware I was actually staring at him and that it was very impolite and improper, but I couldn't get myself to stop. And then I saw it: the corners of his mouth moved upwards just a (un pic) and just for a couple of seconds, to my surprise. He took one step back and invited me in with a gesture.

"Would you like to come in?"

"I... I'm not disturbing?" I asked, unsure.

"Well, you obviously have something serious on your chest, to come here at almost the break of dawn. So, anything I was doing will have to wait. Please, do come in."  
>His quarters?! Oh, that was definitely not going to help me! And it was so hot in there. I looked around the tidy room, not being able to see much, since it was only lit by one lamp.<p>

I sat on a couch next to a coffee table, where there were multiple Pads, all of them lit. They looked like students' papers. ~He must be reading them simultaneously.~ I thought, but that was not unusual for him. But at 4 AM? Didn't he sleep at night? I knew Vulcans could go on without sleeping, longer than humans could; maybe they didn't even need 7-8 hours of sleep to feel refreshed. Spock never looked tired; he was also spick and span and, in three years, I had never heard of him being sick. But that was common for Vulcans, too. They were your regular super-humans.

"Are you sure I can't get you anything?" I heard him saying from the small kitchen of the quarters. "Tea? Coffee, maybe?"

"Oh, dear God, no!" I almost shouted.

Spock came in with a disconcerted look on his face.

"I was being ironical. You should know Vulcans do not drink coffee. So, I keep none."

"I mean…" I cleared my throat "I've already had my share of caffeine for the night."

He raised his right eyebrow at me, a gesture I was familiar with and that I knew he used to signal a wide array of attitudes; right then, he was telling me: ~Really?!~

"Very well, then." he added and he sat down on the couch, his hands neatly folded in his lap, one foot away from me. Again, very strange for a Vulcan to be seated this close to someone not family or friend. I felt a knot in my throat, as he was looking at me, probably waiting for me to begin. But I didn't know how to, so I kept staring at the Padds. Finally, he broke the silence.  
>"I am sorry for not being more diplomatic, but I guess this hour doesn't help, either. So, if you have come to express some concern, you should just do so, freely."<p>

"Well, I'm not feeling particularly diplomatic myself," I smiled embarrassed, playing with a lock of my hair.

"I have never seen you with your hair down like that." Spock unexpectedly interrupted me. "Only that time at the hospital, but you weren't feeling very well, on that occasion. I must say, it compliments your features."

"Oh," I sighed surprised. "Thank you?"

"You are welcome." came the instant polite retort.

I was now smiling stupidly and my face felt flushed.

"And I have noticed" he continued "you look smaller than usual. You are quite petite and delicate?"

There was something different in his voice, a kind of amusement. I could even say he was... flirting?

"I… I am…" I stammered and then laughed. "And you're quite… gallant?"

Spock shrugged.

"As I have told you: it must be the early hour."

As silence was falling again, I took a deep breath and began:

"I came here because I have a problem that I think you might be able to help me with, sir."

"Really?" and this time I was sure I could catch a tint of irony.

Spock leaned back.

"Let us hear it then."

"I… How can I…? Could you teach me to control my emotions so that they won't get in the way of my better judgment?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and began explaining.

"I do not see how I could give you a crash course on this, cadet. I myself have chosen not to go through the Vulcan ritual that completely purges emotions. However, whatever abilities of controlling them I might have, be they innate, they were sustained by years of practice and meditation. So, I'm sorry, I cannot help you. But that is a very interesting request. What drove you to it?"

I couldn't contain myself anymore, so I just blurted out:  
>"Because I think I've developed an infatuation for you… Commander… sir…"<p>

Spock raised his eyebrows in surprise, but he replied:

"I know." in the same amused tone from before.

My eyes grew bigger and my jaw dropped open.

"You do?"

"That is what I've said. I've known it for a while."

I was speechless, so he explained.

"Although I choose not to let myself be overwhelmed by emotions, it does not mean I don't recognize and understand them. Plus, Vulcans have touch telepathy skills."

I protested softly, now truly embarrassed, my cheeks in a blaze:

"But I don't remember touching you. And isn't there a code that should forbid you from entering someone's mind without their consent?"

Spock tilted his body towards me, which made me even shier. He said, in a softer tone:

"I am sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. We have touched on a few occasions, by accident. I do not know why I am able to feel you by the slightest touch, without your consent, or mine. It is different from mind-melding. It's totally spontaneous. Even as you stood outside my door, I knew it was you. There must be some connection. I find it fascinating!"

Well, I had no idea what mind-melding was. But the fact that it all sounded like some experiment to him made me feel almost anxious. And it wasn't fair: I couldn't feel any of his emotions. I mean, did he even have emotions? I pouted and frowned. His behavior was confusing. I had to admit, though, that it was the first time I was seeing him relaxed, in his quarters, privately, without the Commander halo around him. Was this the real Spock? In some ways, he was like a child. I also couldn't read whether he liked me or not and it drove me crazy.

"So…" I began. "What about what you feel? Or… do you even feel anything? Do you even like me?"

"Affirmative." he promptly replied. "You are the smartest cadet in my class and I think I have made it very clear on several occasions that I appreciate your skills and your hard work. And we do work well together."

I covered my eyes with my palm.

~Tadaaa! This was the worst idea ever.~ I thought. ~I've made a total fool of myself.~

But Spock lowered my hand, while I was thinking: ~Again, with the touching.~ and looked me in the eye.

"Do not misunderstand me." he continued, in a slightly different tone of voice, one that touched my heart: "I feel at ease with you. And I find you… very beautiful, Nyota."

I looked at him, and I was certain I was blushing. The way he uttered my name, the same as he had when he saw me in the hallway, made my hands tingle. He continued:

"And, as I have pointed out before, there is obviously some sort of… connection between us."

Silence fell once again. I didn't feel any connection so it all sounded very mysterious to me. But I knew I did like him a lot and wanted to know him better. I wanted to tell him that, but as I was about to start, he also began saying something. He smiled, while I laughed. Smiling made his eyes look even warmer. I loved it.

"You first." I said.

"What I wanted to add was that you do not know me." and he all went serious, the way he was in class. "You think you are infatuated with me, but you are infatuated with your idea of me. And you are not familiar with Vulcan customs."

I didn't like where the discussion was heading. I was quiet for a moment but then I heard myself say what I never thought I'd be the one to say to a guy:

"Then let's go out on a date and get to know each other on a real, personal level!"

Spock got up and took a few steps.

"I guess it would be the logical course to take." he stopped in front of a photo on the wall, and grated the glass with one finger.

Still looking away from me, he continued:

"The reason I have not given you any feedback on what you were feeling, although it was obvious to me, is not that it is unrequited, but the fact that I think… you might not like the real me, once you will be acquainted with it."

He sounded very harsh, as if scolding himself and very sure of what he was saying.

I got up in my turn, trying to see what was in that photo, but the corner was too dark. I was touched by his sincerity, but also by his obvious inferiority complex, that I would have never guessed… or no one, for that matter, since most of the times he was being a condescending smart-ass and for the obvious reason of being a genius and knowing it. Yet I was the same as him, so I could see past that; I would have liked to explain that, to me, he was like an angel and I felt protected near him and that I could perceive his delicacy and warmth and that I simply felt like knowing and understanding him. But I was at a loss for words. I simply said, in a trembling voice, still fearing the outcome of that discussion:

"If you don't mind, sir… Spock…" and I felt my cheeks burning up as I called him by his name for the first time. "I'd like to be the judge of that."

He looked at me over his shoulder, then turned and came towards me, stopping at a very short distance. He looked stern, as he if he would announce an exam.

"Very well, then. Might I suggest, since it would be unprofessional of me to date my students, that we do this after your finals, in two weeks?"

I was dizzy. I nodded, smiling happily.

"It's a date!" I extended a hand to him, but immediately demurred, realizing it might have been inappropriate.

To my surprise, he held my hand slowly, gently and shook it once, with that discreet smile on his face.

I didn't go back to the dorm, but remained in the academy park, waiting for the sun to come up, feeling elated. So much had happened that morning: I had been in his quarters and seen his smile for the first time, I called him by his name… I could still feel the warmth of his hand around mine. I was so glad I had brought myself to confess to him and I was sure there was nothing about 'the real Spock' I wouldn't like. And all that thanks to coke and chocolate.

The only problem I had with it, was that the date seemed too far away. What if Spock could change his mind? And then it hit me! I got up, and ran all the way up to my room, opened my Padd and began typing.  
>I skipped his lecture that day, but I managed to get to class just as the other cadets were leaving the room. Spock was gathering his stuff from the (catedra) when I approached him and I went:<p>

"Sir."

His eyes seemed to sparkle for just (o clipa) when he faced me. The other cadets didn't suspect a thing, because the Commander and I were always consulting each other off class.

"Cadet Uhura. We have missed you in class. Would you like an extension for the completion of your final assignment?"

"No, sir. I'm done."

"Sorry?"

"My thesis, sir. I've uploaded it to the server. And it's already been graded. First in the class."

Then I added with a glee that I couldn't conceal:

"You are no longer my Instructor!"

The last few students that left the room might have thought their eyes were playing tricks on them: did they just see their uptight, no-nonsense, Vulcan Instructor smiling? The room was now empty.

"So, if you don't mind… Spock. Would you go out with me for dinner… tonight… to celebrate, of course, the end of a fruitful Instructor-Cadet collaboration? And, maybe, the beginning of something else?"

It was Spock's turn to offer me his hand and with a tilt of his head, he said:

"Of course, Nyota. It is a date."

I took his hand and as we looked into each other's eyes, I could swear I felt a subtle thrill, like electricity, traveling back and forth between us.


	2. Dating, kissing and emafa kito

Who would have ever thought?

As I have told him, in the beginning of our relationship, I didn't think we'd last one week. It's been a little more than six months now, since we first started dating and we've become pretty close and very fond of each other. In fact… we're in love. Both of us in a place we've never been before and definitely would have never thought we'd be… Let alone with someone from another planet. Although, for me it was somewhat -for lack of a better word- cthia (*vulcan word for 'logical'), since I deemed most of the human guys I've dated, primitive.

But he, he is oh, so different! Even as I enter this log, I think of him and there is a constant flutter of a smile on my lips, and the warm and fuzzy feeling of having awoken from a nice dream. I am lucky to live in an interstellar age, where one could find their perfect match across the galaxy.  
>Gaila asked me if dating a vulcan wasn't… boring, or too serious. And maybe, if someone would watch our normal, daily interaction and discussions, they would be tempted to think it is quite so. We do talk a lot, sometimes even argue on really heavy topics. We have lots of things in common, but also lots of differences and a ton of information to exchange. And I'm learning interesting stuff from him all the time. Boring? I've had human boyfriends that were boring. Spock is anything but boring. In fact, he makes me laugh a lot. He's got this sense of humor one would never guess: this mixture of irony and puns that cracks me up. He says he gets it from his human mom.<p>

Gaila told me she could never bring herself to hit on a vulcan, because they seem so stiff and uptight. Yeah… hitting on them, the way she does, I guess it would never work. They are never frivolous. You have to incite them intellectually and to prove you're a challenge before they even consider dating you. And quite frankly, I've always liked smart guys myself. Gaila replied that it's bullshit and that I'm actually into those big, dark eyes of his and kissable lips, and that I like him 'cause he's a hunk. Partially true. I admit to being very attracted to him and I've always considered him handsome, but communication is also important, isn't it? What's up with that girl, always reducing everything to chemistry! Not to mention she asked me out front about our sex life, using the excuse of being curious, because vulcans were the one race she couldn't picture having sex, because of their sternness.

Of course they do. But, the thing about vulcans is that they never rush into things and there is no such thing as an unserious relationship. They won't engage into physical action, unless you're on a certain level of trust and they don't do something first: the emafa kito. It translates as mind-melding. I had heard about it informally. I knew there was something about their hands, like they felt stuff through their hands. That's why it was not polite to shake a vulcan's hand, when you met them. I found out why and that it was even more complicated than that.

I had been dating Spock for a couple of months now and we weren't even kissing. Not even holding hands. I was beginning to wonder whether it was ever going to happen. Sure, I enjoyed our discussions and I was in awe of how much he knew, but I sometimes doubted we're ever gonna be more than friends. He commanded too much respect to me.

Then, one day, out of the blue, he tells me we've reached a stage in our interaction that would require emafa kito and suggests we should try it. I was reluctant at first –I didn't want someone scanning my mind- but he seemed so curious and even excited about it, that I accepted.  
>So we've mind-melded and because I had no control over it, I ended up sharing something with him that I had locked down completely, trying to forget about it. I was so moved when it came to the surface, that I cried, but Spock offered me solace in the warmth of his embrace. That was also the first time we kissed. He then told me he had feared the connection may not have been possible, since I wasn't vulcan, but that it hadn't proved to be a problem. He also told me I have a beautiful mind and that I am a strong, undeveloped telepath.<p>

How does it work? Well, I can't really explain it: it's a very intense and intimate sensation. Frankly, I don't think it's for everyone. It can be exhausting and stirring. He places his fingers on specific points of my face and our minds become one. You get to feel the other person's consciousness inside you and then you merge with it.

Every aspect of your mind may be disclosed and you are simply naked and vulnerable in front of each other. You may share private memories, feelings, things you could never bring yourself to say out loud or you've never told anyone before… a lot of people would hate it. And on a certain level, it may feel uncomfortable, 'cause if I had anything to hide from him, I wouldn't be able to do it. I guess I would simply have to refuse the connection. But it does have its perks.

We've mind-melded several times since then. Little by little, it began feeling alright, then awesome. I was learning from him, how to transmit a specific memory, rather than just let them come on their own. He would show me childhood memories of his, sceneries from his planet, things you normally show pictures and tell stories of. But it was immensely more than just telling a story or showing a picture. The meld also allowed the transfer of emotions, so that you could really understand the other, see where they're coming from, and never misjudge them. For instance, when I once asked him whether he ever loses his temper, he showed me this memory when, as a child, he was being teased by classmates, on account of being a… crossbreed. He snapped, when one of them called his father a traitor and his mother a whore. He beat the crap out of that other kid. And to feel child-Spock's anger and confusion and inability to choose between two worlds, helped me understand him better; as he himself has put it, he cherished his human heritage.

This is how I've realized Spock was so much more than meets the eye. In fact, I was amazed of the depths of his emotions. Humans say vulcans have no feelings. Well, I say, their feelings run deeper that ours; they just don't show them and don't let themselves be driven or overwhelmed by them. I've met humans that were totally insensitive. But Spock was exactly the opposite. He was wise and knowledgeable beyond his age, cool and detached, yes, yet curious and somewhat naïve and pure like a child. I couldn't resist it. His inner life seduced me more and more. Everything fascinated him and he had great reverence and compassion about nature. He absolutely loved Earth, as much as he loved Vulcan and asked me repeatedly to show him places I had been, especially if it involved seas, rain or snow. He also liked it when I showed him my wild and carefree childhood, as opposed to his stern upbringing. I asked him whether it hadn't been hard for him, growing up as a small genius and he said it was ok, 'cause he didn't know anything else. And he also enjoyed the attention.

After we've had the first mind-meld, we also began holding hands… and kissing. I understood why that had to be the order and I understood why he wouldn't rush into things. A simple action as holding hands with someone, we earthlings take for granted, is a very personal gesture for a vulcan and it implies a pretty high level of involvement with someone. The connection having been established, when we held hands, superficial, momentary thoughts and sensations moved between us. I found it funny and exciting. It was even possible to carry very simple conversations through our hands, unbeknownst to others. I knew for certain he liked me; I could feel it. And I could feel his serenity and calm, his balance and peaceful attitude. I couldn't get enough of his hands. He enjoyed my touch, too. We seemed to just… fit.

Now, mind-melding was a very out worldly experience for me. With kissing, it was different: definitely physical and I loved his lips, his taste, his scent. But there was more to it. It took me a while to understand what it was that I felt: scorching sand, hot sun, powerful wind storms, active vulcans… I could feel the planet he grew up on and had created his body. He was made of earth and fire. In return, he told me that I reflect the land where I was born. He scientifically explained to me, not without a darker tint of green on the top of his cheekbones, that on a microscopic level, the landscape of where one was born was imprinted on the tongue.

When I kissed him, I began realizing… I love him. About the same time, the look in his eyes changed. Their expression turned warmer. Although his everyday discourse was as pretentious and serious as ever, he would compliment me on my looks, every day we met, even if I was merely in my uniform; I've never received more honest compliments in my life. When we walked, he smiled more and he had this way of keeping close to me, so that, even if his hands were behind his back, I could feel him embracing me. If we were in the same room with other people, we would meet eyes for an instant, and that look would communicate all the love in the world.

I don't know if it was the telepathic connection, but kissing him got me elated. I had never felt like that with anyone. When I took his hand, I knew he felt the same; and feeling what he felt, gave me a sense of security. I never thought I would enjoy total honesty. Yet, there was still one aspect that eluded me and that he wouldn't let pervade through his hands or kisses. We were still pretty much just close friends that held hands and occasionally kissed and hugged. I was ready to take it to another level. In fact, I was surprised I had lasted this long, but now I felt my hormones running amok.


	3. First contact

So, one night, we're in his quarters. l love it there: there's always incense of different fragrances and the smell of tea, which he so carefully prepares for me, and the mysterious relics on the simple, but tasteful furniture and the low lights over the warm colors, which probably remind him of home. There's this feeling of intimacy, of sacred grounds. At first he would turn down the heat to accommodate me, although for him it meant enduring lower temperatures than those he was used to on his planet, which he already did all day long around the Academy. I stopped him from doing that. Africa isn't Vulcan, but I'm used to hotter atmosphere myself.

To continue: we're seated on the floor, around his coffee table, as we usually are. And he's holding my hand. We're enjoying the connection and talking whatnots. I'm feeling more in love than ever. I'm lost in the dark warmth of his eyes. So, I gather up the courage and simply ask him, on a particularly kittenish tone of voice whether Vulcans… make love. I'm stricken immediately by how he withdraws his hand from mine.

"Are you referring to sex?" he questions back, in his usual academic tone, disarming me completely.

Was he taking it as another one of our discussions, whereas I was trembling inside? I start babbling, 'cause I was referring to the biology of it, but also to the feeling you put into it, when doing it with someone you love. I thought he understood what I was hinting at… but gave an entire tirade instead.

"Vulcans do have sex." he answered "Love, however, is an entirely different matter; it is a vibration, energy that comes from the Universe and is not ours to give, but manifest unconditionally and beyond our comprehension. One should not confuse it with lust. Sex between two adults is a mere physical play that follows the release of certain hormones into the bloodstream, but you should know that. So, to a certain level, it is no different than what happens to humans. It is a logical follow up if not a crowning of a serious courtship. Although I have come to notice that a lot of Terrans treat this matter either frivolously, or confusing the sex drive set by compatible pheromone patterns, with love. "

I could grasp his answer intellectually, but it didn't sound good to me. Not at that moment. Not exactly a love song, Spock. I was thinking ~Greeeat!~ and I must have looked pouty and confused. He noticed I wasn't listening, or rather, didn't want to.

After moments of awkward silence, he finally read into it and asked me:

"Nyota… I am sorry! Were you suggesting _we_ should have sex?"

Another direct question. I nod, all the while stubbornly thinking: ~Love! Make love!~ And I could see, for a second, a shadow on his face, like he worried about something. At the same time, he seemed curious, as he usually is. I guessed he shared my exact feelings on the matter. Besides the obvious attraction towards him that I felt, I was curious but also worried of a possible misfit.

Well, the moment was ruined anyway, so I decide to stop beating around the bush and ask him, as directly as he had been, if it would be the first time for him, but he bluntly replies no, and I know Vulcans don't lie.

"First time with a human, though." he adds and I realize in awe that my dear, carrier-oriented Spock must have not 'done it' since he had left Vulcan, some good six years ago.

I respond:

"It would be my first time with a Vulcan, so we're even. I only wish you hadn't made it sound so cold and logical".

He smiles in the corner of his mouth, and then he says: "Logical? Of course. Cold? Not exactly! Do not misunderstand me."

Now I was intrigued.

He moves closer to me and I can perceive his touchless embrace. My heart starts beating faster. He says:

"Very well. If this is what pleases you… You know, there is a symbol of your request, on my planet. Would you indulge me, please?" and he holds up two joined fingers.

I go along with it and do the same. He slowly runs his fingers across mine and down the back of my palm and my forearm, while looking into my eyes. I don't know why, but I find it as sexy as hell. It gives me such a rush. I respond in the same manner. He's got this mysterious and playful glee about him as he says in Vulcan:

"There is no turning back now."

~What, right now?~ But before I even consider backing out, he caresses my face softly and kisses me. And things just escalate. Our kisses feel right. Our hugs melt us into each other. But once again, he's not rushing and he's being very delicate with me. He breaths me in and tastes me. His hands are gliding on my body and I just love them. His skin is warm and inhumanly smooth. We systematically take each other's cloths off. And everything looks… right, fitting, if you know what I mean. Till that moment it felt like plain human foreplay. But I guess nothing could have prepared me for what followed.

As I sit down in his lap, and our bodies join, he places the tips of his fingers on the side of my face and… I don't know where I am anymore. My brain, my heart, my entire body just burst with sensations and I feel like I'm expanding, as if I have… two bodies, one feminine, one masculine, that I can feel at the same time, but everything is magnified; and I feel them… slowly aligning with each other, balancing each other, until our hearts beat the same and we breath in the same rhythm. It was actually him doing this. I was too lost in the moment.

He removes his fingers but I can still feel him inside my head and I sense what he's sensing and I feel him feeling me. Words have no place. Our eyes are locked together, and I truly see him… and he sees me. I love it how strong and composed and focused he is and at the same time aroused, fascinated; he loves it how my body feels and how it responds to his. He clasps one hand with mine and the other arm is around my waist.

We move as one. And it's controlled at first, and slow, like a dance. It feels normal, down to Earth, but definitely nice. I realize quickly that he is paying attention to how I react and moves or moves me accordingly. I like it and I respond in the same way. We play like this for a while, I don't know for how long, enjoying each others' bodies. We kiss, and hug, and join foreheads. And as the pace picks up, it's slowly driving me up the wall, until the sensation becomes almost too much to process. So I… get loud. I feel slightly embarrassed, but I sense how my moans send ripples through his body and how much he loves it and a flame bursts inside me. The flame at the core of his soul.

It makes my body wind and coil around his. And I can't hold back, I can't control myself and he doesn't want me to. My whole body tingles and I can feel the tension in his. And that I should stop, maybe. But neither one of us is willing. I want him to go all the way. He pulls me stronger to his chest and… my whole being is filled with his. I could feel his sensations as my own and it was certainly awesome. I think I yelled:

"Oh, my God!".

He collapses on his back and I to his chest. My whole body is pulsating and I can't deny I want more. As I'm lying in his arms, on the floor, both of us panting, I exclaim:

"What just happened?"

I hear him say, in an admiring tone:

"You are quite passionate, Nyota. I was expecting that, but in practice it proved to be rather overwhelming, though most pleasant. I apologize. It has been some time since I last had intercourse with someone."

I inquire, intrigued:

"What are you apologizing for?! Didn't you feel me? Do you realize I have never felt like this? I have never acted like this! And for a first time?! Me, passionate? Since when? Spock, this was… _you_ were wonderful!"

I perceive him shying away, which was unusual for him. He strikes my hair and says softly:

"This was our strong _emafa kito_, our connection. I cannot assume credit for it. What you have felt… was me, my feelings, my sensations, my response to you. "

"I know… I loved it. I find it very exciting to be able to feel the other person. I am moved and complimented by your feelings. I've felt your inner fire. I let it consume me. I lost myself in you. Didn't you feel me?"

"I have. You are beautiful. As warm and delicate as summer rain. I set fire to that rain, turned it into a blazing storm. I lost myself in you, as well."

And just when I was thinking that those were the nicest words anyone's ever said to me, his tone switched to academic again:

"Though I should have controlled myself further. I did not perceive you achieving the release of _your _sexual tension."

Now _I_ was a little embarrassed. Is that what it was all about?

"Are you talking about my… orgasm?" I ask almost in a whisper.

"I am."

Oh, God! After-sex talk with a Vulcan? And about a touchy subject like that? He couldn't possibly have expected me to come our first time, especially since I was experiencing… "technical difficulties" in that department. Of course I was… "achieving" it while masturbating, although I didn't quite enjoy doing that to myself and, what with all the studying, I didn't actually have time. I was surprised I could cram up a relationship in my limited spare time.

But orgasm while having sex? It had only happened once with someone, while I was very drunk and I gave the credits to the alcohol. From that I gathered that I probably was too aware and controlled on a regular basis. But it wasn't a problem for me; I certainly didn't want him to fuss about it. At least, not right at that moment. Though I had to admit I was touched he would notice and care. Most men wouldn't.

"It's not a big deal." I continue to whisper. "I still love everything that's happened. I could feel you, which has never happened to me before with anyone… and it was enough for me."

But Spock just wouldn't get the idea:

"I disagree on it not being a… 'big deal'. If one does repeatedly not release the tension that accumulates during intercourse, it will only lead to anxiety, depression, anger, and other negative emotions of this sort, deeply disturbing and destructive for a relationship. And I believe the man is supposed to provide the parameters necessary for the woman to reach climax."

~Parameters?~ That was getting more embarrassing by the second. Yet silence wasn't an option, as I feared it would have led him to think the worse. I was trying to find the right words to diffuse the awkwardness of the talk, so I ended up saying something I had once read in a sex material – yes, I had studied the subject, although not nearly as much as I suspected he had.

"Well, um… I still say you shouldn't beat yourself up. You're making it sound so scientific. I don't know how Vulcan women are, but human ones sometimes need time to adjust to their lover's body. And this was merely our first time."

"It _was_, indeed." I perceive him smiling. "Though I sense there is more to the matter than you care to let me know. Since I do not wish to pry into your mind, if you will not share the information with me, I shall have to look into it personally and find out for myself how I may be of service to you." my ambitious counterpart obstinately states and I am too embarrassed to even begin to think what that meant… though it sounded good.

Before I object, he continues:

"However, on a more positive note, our bodies agree with each other. I am relieved and content it is so. From this point on, the situation can only improve."

Was he admitting to having been worried we wouldn't "agree with each other"?

I look at him and bare and strike his forehead:

"Oh, Spock. You had doubts… as with the _emafa kito_. I know you well enough to understand why. But, please, don't hide from me anymore. I couldn't stand it, now that I have truly seen you."

"I am sorry, Nyota." he answers, taking my hand and kissing it. "I promise you: no more doubts, no more hiding. I am entirely yours now." and the charge of his words was that he was completely vulnerable in front of me, placing his heart, his very soul, into the palm of my hand.

I felt so emotional I could cry:

"And I am yours." I tell him.

"My Nyota." he whispers in Vulcan.

"Yes." and tears well up in my eyes. "My Spock." and I kiss him and cuddle up to him, while he holds me with one arm, and strikes my hair with the other hand.

I sob softly and I reach for his hand, knowing it would calm me… but I find him as moved inside as I am.

We lay like this for a while, until I perceive a shiver and the word ~cold~ in my mind.

"Oh. Are you cold?" I ask and I perceive ~yes~.

"The floor. Let's get to the bed…" ~no.~ his thought interrupts.

"Then get dressed or get a cover…" ~nuh-uh~ a strange playful tone rings in my mind.

"Then wha…?" and I receive a relevant part of his answer through my hand, but he still says it out loud:

"I was thinking more in the line of taking a hot shower and of you… joining me. Would you be interested?" I didn't need to give my reply out loud; my mind was loud enough.


	4. A trilling experience

Becoming intimate with him, gave me an opportunity to pick his brains a little more, understand him better. I considered our communication already great, but sex helped sparkle up a thread of conversations that being mere friends would never have. So, lots of times, after making love, we would just lie next to each other, with joined hands and discuss... sex. In fact, it was more like me prying into his personal matters and him indulging me, or not, depending on the amount of issue hidden behind the subject.

I was curious for instance why he had been single all that time and if it hadn't been hard for him. So, one time, that was my focus. I mean, of course I knew he just took things as they were. Of course he wouldn't pine over not having something: things are just the way things are... the more so, if you're Vulcan. So of course it hadn't been difficult for him to be single all that time... in theory.

Any other guy, though, would have at least sought some form of… release of their sexual energy. Doesn't that gather up and drive you nuts if you don't do something about it? The more so, if you're a man? Well, apparently, not if you're Vulcan. Or at least strive to be... though you're only half one.

"Meditation sublimates sexual energy successfully, if practiced correctly and consistently." he haughtily explained. "Regular exercise also serves to that purpose. And so does sustained intellectual effort."

So, ok. Meditation, exercise and intellectual effort instead of casual, meaningless, instantly gratifying sex. That does sound like a true Vulcan. And what about... self-satisfaction? I don't know how I did it, but I gathered up the courage to ask about how Vulcans view that.

"Masturbation?" he throws back at me curtly, the way he always managed to embarrass me when I was actually trying to give a nicer ring to a word. "Vulcans do not engage in such practice." Of course they don't! "It is an illogical draining of one's own physical energy and it weakens the mind by allowing lust to settle inside the consciousness. In addition, a male cannot offer a satisfying sexual experience to a female, if he is used to search for his own, rapid satisfaction?"

"In other words, turns guys into selfish pigs that won't last a minute with a woman in bed?"

"Precisely, though not my best choice of words."

"Well, it kinda makes sense."

I was still thinking how he must have squandered all his student years! All the opportunities. Because I was having a hard time not imagining the line of women sighing after his beautiful eyes, his lean, tall frame, his tight butt muscles… while he kept his nose buried in padds, partially to graduate first in class, but mostly because he's such a geek and loves to study, and a last word freak, which you have to read _a lot_ for, in order to always have the last word, always know what to say and say it in such a way that not many fellow students, or teachers, for that matter, can fully understand you, unless they carry a thesaurus with them.

And what about when he became an instructor? Standing in front of classrooms half filled with women of various races, biting their lips, chewing on their styluses, striking the bench with their fingers? Didn't he at least get the hiccups?

"I do not understand why should their fascination, have elicited an involuntary reaction such as a hiccup from me?"

"It is just a human superstition. Nevermind."

"Ah. Noted."

And how did he do it? Just said a cold and abrupt 'no' to all of those that asked him out, with a perfectly sound, logical explanation added to it?

"Precisely."

Or just stood there expressionless, while they threw googly eyed suggestions at him, till they finally walked away, sighing, thinking he was a lost cause… or gay?

"On occasions."

Not that he hadn't received invitations from men, also. By the time I took his classes, he already had a reputation of being cold and inaccessible romantically and the whole Academy was filled with whispered rumors of why that hunk of a Vulcan might be like that. Some of them logical. Some funny. Some really weird. They didn't move one muscle on his face, when I've mentioned them to him. He rebuked them with a single phrase.

"I merely did not feel inclined to pursue any of those women romantically. Or men."

Of course you wouldn't. 'Cause how could you know if you want to "pursue someone romantically" if you don't at least go out on a date with them and see how it goes?

"That is not the way of Vulcan."

And he didn't explain what that way is, and the silence that fell between our hands was so tense and awkward that I did not insist. Although I admit I have looked it up afterwards, but there are no records of it. Vulcans pretty much keep that part to themselves. Hopefully it's not some weird, barbaric ritual. It can't be. Not for how advanced a race Vulcans hold themselves to be, no.

I felt a huge amount of issue hidden behind that line: "the way of Vulcan". It has led me to construct my own theory of why he was single. I just know he must have had at least one super serious long term relationship, back on his planet, that he doesn't wanna talk about. Sometimes I even wonder if he hasn't been married, or at least betrothed. I'm guessing it did not end well and that it took its toll on him and undermined his confidence in romantic relationships. Hence his stubborn decision to engulf himself in studying and developing professionally. And there you have it. He is more human then he thinks he is.

But here comes the nasty part of it: my feminine intuition sometimes makes me wonder if that relationship ended at all. What if he _is_ married still and all that time he had simply been faithful? I like to dismiss this theory, since it produces a sudden and unbearable aggravation in my heart.

"And what about me? How did I get under your skin?" I asked him and I expected to get a tirade of how the relationship developed logically, from professional to friendly, to romantic. Or at least hear him object to my use of an idiom that stated something physically impossible, his way of avoiding answering a question. Although deep inside, I was hoping to hear him say it's because I'm beautiful and really smart and ambitious and...

Instead, he simply looked at me with the most unexpected warm expression in his eyes and said: "I do not know, Nyota. You just did." It made my heart feel all fuzzy.

I still wasn't convinced of something, though.

"So, you're telling me you didn't have sex _at all_ since you've arrived on Earth."

"I did not say that."

I was confused for a second, but then I recalled his exact words when we made love the first time: "First time _with a human_." I had misunderstood it. So I burst out:

"Oh, my God! What race was she?"

I immediately felt embarrassed for prying into the matter so shamelessly. But what I didn't feel was that tense and awkward silence I sensed when he had not mentioned the supposedly ex from Vulcan. Instead, he even answered directly, and did I detect a bit of pride?

"She was a Trill. She was part of a group of emissaries on Earth."

A Trill emissary... and the words echoed in my head.

"Oh, my God! A Trill emissary?! How did you meet her? Were you a student? Was she beautiful? Was she older? Wait! Was she _joined_? Of course she was: she was an emissary!"

I couldn't get my mouth to stop. I could perceive him being amused at my curiosity. Nevertheless, he answered my questions one at a time.

"I was a student, yes. I met her at an Academy party I was invited to, as president of the student council. She was quite attractive. And she was fairly young... the host. The symbiont, however, was... older."

Like a lot older, I could sense from his pause and tone. But how? From what I had studied about Trills, the symbiont would discourage their hosts to engage in sexual relationships, as they deemed them a sign of weakness. At the same time, it is the same said symbiont that constantly searched for new experiences.

"We were... curious. All three of us." he answered the question he felt rising in my mind.

All three of us? Holly mother of galactic threesome! And here I was thinking I was dating this really sweet, shy, conventional, traditionalist guy. That apparently had a kinkier mind than I expected.

He perceived my awe and did a kind of muffled chuckle, his lips tightly shut. It was the first time I had ever heard him laugh.

"Nyota, it was certainly not _like_ that." he reprimanded me. "During her stay on Earth, we met several times. We had brilliant conversations. She was very intelligent, wise, had incredibly vast knowledge. In a word... fascinating."

"So you've just hit it off with the symbiont. But how did you end up doing it with the host?"

"Actually, at a point, they both manifested curiosity towards _emafa kito._"

In other words she wanted... or he, or... whatever it was, wanted to know how it felt like to have sex with a race that had touch telepathic abilities.

"Precisely. Whereas I felt curious as to what it was like to mind-meld with a Trill symbiont. As part of an experiment, of course."

"Of course. All for the benefit of science."

And the fact that the host was smoking hot, was of no importance whatsoever.

"While the irony I perceive in your retort suggests your distrust, I assure you that _that_ was exactly the case."

What was it then that he wasn't telling me? Why did I keep hearing ~chocolate~ in my mind? He wasn't exactly hiding it, either. His amusement and exhilaration tingled my hand.

"Chocolate? Spock...?"

"All right." he said "I admit it. I had chocolate."

"Like, um, the desert? I don't under..."

"That time, we were in her apartment and she wanted to offer me something to drink. I do not recall my reason of priding over the fact that alcohol has no effect on Vulcans. Yet that is what I told her. As a consequence she asked me what would. So I told her that, as well."

"Wait! Are you telling me you get drunk... from chocolate?"

That was certainly funny. And exploitable. But Spock wouldn't confirm it. He kept quiet for a few moments, while emotions fidgeted through our hands. Suddenly, I burst:

"She totally seduced you. She got you drunk, with chocolate, and took advantage of you."

"I would not say that."

"Took advantage of an innocent, young student..."

"It was of my own accord."

"You liked it, you devil!"

"I certainly did. Why else would I have continued to see her afterwards?"

"So, this became a thing? A romantic thing?"

"No. Emotional attachment was something we strove to avoid, given the parameters of the whole situation. Instead, it was simply..."

~sex~ I get through my hand. ~casual~, ~meaningless~, ~instantly gratifying~. My hand was burning me.

"Spock! How very... un-Vulcan of you."

"I _am_ half human."

I had a good laugh picturing the whole situation. Spock felt amused, too; it seemed to have been a nice period of his life. And, thinking about it, it did seem logical: two... well, three beings of races that were stern and had a self-imposed discipline, yet at the same time eager to accumulate new experiences. I was thrilled he had shared that with me. Or should I say... "trilled"?

"May I ask why does my account elicit such a joyful response from you?"

"I guess 'cause sharing stuff like this, like our exes, or interesting sexual experiences is part of the human way of getting closer to each other, as a couple."

"Fascinating."

"Isn't it? Now I know you a little better."

"Should I then inquire about _your... _exes, as well? Though I do find this... human custom inappropriate and rude. Although you are correct: it does logically lead to an exchange of knowledge about the other, useful, to a certain extent, for the emotional and even physical development of the relationship."

"Oh. Glad you see the bright side of my rudeness then. As to my exes, I had in no way the... "trilling" experiences you had..."

"Thrilling?" he corrected me unsure.

"No, no, "trilling". You see... um... nevermind."

I adjusted myself on his chest, so I could look him in the eye. "Let's talk about you some more. Why don't you tell me about Vulcans and... chocolate?"

"I most certainly will not." he stated sternly, while the corner of his mouth moved slightly upwards, in contrast.

"I'm gonna paraphrase something that you said: if you will not share this information with me, I will have to look into it personally and find out for myself how... I may use this to my advantage."

He caught me in his arms and tipped me over on my back.

"I urge you to consider this, instead. You have inquired as to how you... "got under my skin". It is indeed a matter of skin." he kissed my neck. "Of chocolaty skin."

"Oh, Spock... You say the nicest things!"

He began licking and kissing my skin so I couldn't think of bothering him with improper questions anymore; not that I had anything to object.


	5. Training

I've spent an entire month in a daze. It has even been a little difficult to focus on studies, and that had never happened to me before. Mainly because that was my only focus for a long time. I never deemed any relationship that I ever had with a guy, more important than my studies and my future carrier. Guys don't like that in a woman. That is why all my past relationships have been painfully short-lived; but I felt relieved each time they ended, because I could return to my main focus.

Yet, with him, no matter what I do, there _he_ is, constantly on my mind. I don't know how this went down so deep in my soul, but I ardently await only the moment I would meet him again. My life revolves around it. _I_ revolve around _him_, like the Earth around the Sun.

I think I lost weight, 'cause I wasn't really hungry. Not for food anyway. It completely baffled me, because I never was a sexual person. And I don't think he was, either. To me, sex was something I sometimes had, to keep a hormonal balance; and it felt nice (when it wasn't awkward or bad), but was never awesome... it never got a chance to become this way, since the relationships always ended too soon. To him, sex was an experiment: fascinating, logical, but not necessary and emotionally dangerous to indulge in. Our relationship changed everything drastically.

For me, it brought back teenage fantasies, from before I actually did it the first time, out of curiosity, definitely with the wrong guy. Back then, I used to think of it as something magical; I thought of the moment when your bare skin touches the lover's skin, and of the thrill you must feel, like the cells could somehow communicate with each other, across the two bodies. I thought of how you could look the other in the eye, and know what they're thinking; how your fingers tangle with his and transmit the way you feel... It's needless to say this doesn't happen with a human male on a regular basis, especially when there's not much of a connection to begin with. On realizing how artless and sometimes downright ridiculous the sexual act actually was, my dreams crumbled and I eventually forgot them. Till I met Spock.

For him... it broke a huge barrier. Unlike me, he always took things as they were, without fantasies and dreams. But being of a race that could actually feel through their touch, they were urged as teenagers to control their sexual drive, to keep physical activities physical and not let emotions get involved... pretty much the same way they went about everything on his planet. I'm surprised he's shared that with me. I still have no clue about his partner, or partners, from Vulcan, he still keeps that part of his life shielded from me... but whoever they were, they taught him well. As far as technique goes, he was impeccable. Yet, at the beginning, I could feel that emotional restraint specific for his race. And I could actually feel him not allowing himself to relax and enjoy the ride. And that had always been the case with him. And he had accepted it. Till he met me.

On my part, I guess I would have never opened up sexually towards him like I did, if there hadn't been this huge chemistry between us, a thing I had never felt before with anyone and that provided a solid base. We simply were in tune. Our bodies just chimed in. They were constantly saying… shouting "Yes!" to each other.

Then there was his self-control and his logical, thorough, methodical manner of doing things, which I never thought would come in handy while making love. I was subdued by his way of paying attention to details, of experimenting, adapting, focusing on me, on what I like, on how I like it, until he knew exactly how to go about foreplay, how to turn me on irrevocably and keep me that way, until I almost begged for more -and most of the times I actually did, and he loved it more than he would admit to himself-, how to varying pace and different positions so that I would progressively but unfailingly approach climax, be kept on the verge of it and thrown into it. Sometimes I thought it was just a matter of applied math and physics for him... but I always came so hard that I didn't give a f**k.

And then there were the hands… Oh, the hands! His big, capable, warm hands sliding all over my body, grabbing my curves, sinking into my flesh. I recognize those hands. I can't explain it, but they feel so familiar. If I were to accurately describe the feeling I get from them, it would be like my whole body is a plasma globe, and when his fingers brush my skin, they attract lightning bolts from deep inside me. This response always fascinated him, when it echoed into his own body.

Finally, there was the touch-telepathy… I mean, it was all about the touch-telepathy! He was feeling me feeling him; I was feeling him feeling me. Bodies melted into each other; in the spots where our skin met, every cell of his merged with mine. It was an intricate but very intimate and pleasant entanglement of minds. Spoken words were never necessary. He could hear my thoughts and, while his mind was very quiet, his body communicated with mine and I could perceive everything he was feeling. He was clearly aware of what I wanted and how, even before I could turn those thoughts and sensations into actual phrases in my mind. He never backed down from anything and was always prompt to act; which was good, because I never would have bothered specifying what I wanted, partly because I wasn't really aware of what my body craved for, partly because I was actually thinking it is of no importance, but mostly because of my morals.

I have no idea how people do this without touch-telepathy, or, at least without trying more to synchronize with each other. I guess it's why so many relationships fail on account of sexual inadequacy where there is actually a problem of communication. But back to my story.

On his part, one thing led to another. If it hadn't been for everything he awoke inside of me, he would have kept being reserved and technical... an amazing lay nonetheless, yet emotionally unavailable. But, because of the connection we shared, as my passion grew, so did his: and while he would easily cope with his own emotions, he found it trickier to cope with mine, with how they felt inside his body and his response to them; because my physical sensations were mixed with affections that tugged at his own and made him curious to try that for himself. I could feel it... the same way that I felt how obstinately he restrained himself. I just wished he would stop doing it to himself.

And so, the following discussion took place. It was in the earlier stages of our intimate relationship, when I was still confused by the discrepancy between our responses to physical pleasure and emotions.

"I'm a little embarrassed of how utterly out of control I become with you." I told him. "Isn't my manifestation... ridiculous? Don't my moans bother you?"

I knew they didn't. Because of our mental connection, I knew he enjoyed the way I reacted to him.

"How could any of this bother me?" he replied, a little baffled. "Your manifestation, your moans are an indication that I am doing right. As to losing control, that is the main idea, is it not? Loosen your tension?"

"I don't know. I've already told you: I have never acted like this with anyone." and then I told him what actually bothered me. "And what about _your_ tension? I don't hear _you_ moan. Nor do you ever lose control. Does that mean I'm not doing something right?"

He was silent for a while. But I had proceeded about it so logically that he couldn't deny me an answer.

"I am a Vulcan" he finally said, "and I was raised to show restraint with everything involving emotion."

I thought he would stop here, so I was preparing to object. But he continued:

"Nevertheless, I am very prone to losing control, as you put it... when we're making love."

It was a big thing for him to admit to something like that. Plus, he had switched from the expression "having sex" to "making love", which told me he was beginning to understand what Terrans meant by it.

"I can't allow myself to do that." he coldly concluded and, in those words, I felt the harshness with which he treated himself.

"Why?" I asked, but he didn't answer me, just tightened his lips and frowned.

Was it a matter of pride? Was it indeed his upbringing? Was it that he feared he couldn't cope with it? Whichever of these cases, I knew he wouldn't have developed the subject further.

"You know..." I tried a funny approach, "it's not like you're gonna start losing your head in everyday life, too."

He enlarged his eyes in embarrassment, and I understood that I had accidentally named the top reason on his list of why he shouldn't just let go of his precious control.

"Oh, my God, Spock! It was just a joke! Of course you wouldn't!"

He looked away and frowned again, a sign he didn't appreciate it.

"Hey... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel uneasy." and I cupped his burning cheeks, in an attempt to make him look at me, but he would still frown and cast his eyes downwards.

I didn't know what to say and I was ready to drop it all together, when he opened his mouth to say something, then thought about it for a couple of seconds more and finally got it out:

"I thought you appreciated my self-control." and he looked at me from under his eyelids.

"Oh, God, I certainly do!" I said, thinking of all those times where I was just left hanging in the air, by some guy that couldn't control his privates, or was rather controlled by them.

"Then... I don't understand. Self-control and lack of it cannot coexist."

"And I'm not asking you to give up self-control. In fact, I'm not asking you anything. I was merely suggesting you could allow yourself to indulge in how I make you feel... at least sometimes."

"Perhaps you fail to understand that what you suggest may... shorten our encounter exponentially."

So it _was_ a matter of pride. But I could turn it into a challenge.

"I'm sure you'll find a way to manage it, with that big brain of yours."

He was silent again for a few moments.

"Perhaps. Though not from the beginning." he replied and a small smile fluttered on his lips. "I would require training."

I cuddled closer to him:

"I could... train you."

He welcomed me into his arms:

"Accidents might happen."

I touched noses with him:

"Oh, I'll live. And I'm sure you will, too."

He looked at me, questioningly:

"Would this truly please you, Nyota?" he asked, still unsure.

I remembered the fire I had felt at the core of his being, when we made love the first time and our emotions took us both by surprise. To feel that fire again was all I wanted.

"Are you kidding me? Isn't it... logical that I should relish the pleasure I bring you, the same way you enjoy how you make me feel?"

"You make use of logic, in a very illogical way." his rebel eyebrow lifted and I laughed and kissed it.

This is how I got what I wanted. I started feeling it in the way he would suddenly hug me, gather me tightly to his chest, and in the way his neat and quiet mind would whisper my name, or the words _t'nash-veh_ _ashaya_ or _ashayam_ (my love / beloved) and in the way he gasped and sometimes sighed into my skin, when he would normally control his breathing. What he felt, the sudden surge of emotion, the bright and ardent fire in his soul, was always overwhelming for me and, at first, for him, too. But he learned to manage it, the same way he would adapt to anything.

And, boy, could he be passionate! I was thinking about what he had told me he would do to... 'sublimate' sexual energy. How did he tame all that through meditation? How did he keep that under control with crunches? How could he study his way out of it?

The answer was he didn't have any idea he could be like that. And I helped him realize it.

* * *

><p><strong>The new chapter is actually chapter 1.<strong>


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